Home
by Aurumite
Summary: She doesn't know where the words came from, only that she must have heard them once, long ago.
Father sat with his back to her, bent over his desk. His study was dark, but the soft darkness of melted chocolate or the bottom of the cool well, the shadows cast by the cozily burning candles beside him. They outlined his red hair with bright, fiery highlights. The same thing happened to Julius when he played in the sun, like neither of them really needed their crowns. It was almost enough to make Julia forget her sticky nightgown almost strangling her when she woke, the juddering of her heartbeat after her sprint down the pitch-black corridors—almost. She watched from the doorway a moment longer before she ventured,

"Father?"

Her voice came out no bigger than a mouse's squeak. His quill kept moving, but his voice was soft too when he answered, without facing her, "Julia?"

"Father, I'm frightened."

The swan feather stilled, and then he set it aside. When he rose and turned there was concern across his face.

"What is it?"

"I had a dream about a horrible monster."

"Don't you have a nursemaid for this sort of thing?"

Julia nodded. "But she was sleeping. You never sleep."

"Is that so." Father sounded amused as he crossed the study toward her, hands on his hips, looking her over.

"And you're much stronger than her. You could fight a monster easily, couldn't you, Father?"

"I could indeed."

He lifted her into his arms. She felt comforted immediately and nestled her head against his shoulder, though his extra warmth just reminded her of the sweaty back of her neck.

"You're soaked," he murmured. "Poor thing. Let's step outside for a moment. The night air will do you good."

He was right, as always. The breeze that ruffled her hair when he carried her out to the balcony felt like it was brushing a weight away, lowering a fever. The garden spread out below them: night flowers twinkling in the wind like tiny white stars, rows of hedges casting velvety shadows that made the shaded paths turn to bottomless chasms in the night. Very faintly, she smelled jasmine.

"May I stay awake with you, Father?"

"Not for long. You need your sleep."

"But what if my nightmare returns?"

"Do you not know how to keep it away?" he asked, and she shook her head against him. "You have to think of happy things. What is your happiest memory?"

"My last birthday," she knew at once, recalling buttercream frosting and strawberry jam on her tongue. "Julius and I ate all the cake we wanted, and nobody stopped us. I was so glad."

Father laughed a little, and she felt it low in his chest. She'd been so sleepy after all that cake. She was a little sleepy now, even. She began to curl waves of his hair around her fingers.

"What are your happy memories, Father?"

"Mine?"

He seemed a bit surprised to be asked, she saw when she pulled back to look at him. But he, too, knew right away:

"The day you and your brother were born, of course."

She smiled. "I know that one already. What else?"

"The moment I met your mother."

Julia rested her head on his shoulder again and resumed toying with his hair. "Was it love at first sight, then?"

"No, not at all. She was just some woman. That first moment, I didn't know she was the heir to the throne and I didn't know her likes and habits; I didn't even know her name. But there was something about her...something in her face, and in her voice when she first spoke..."

He paused and Julia stilled her fingers, wondering. Father so rarely stopped mid-sentence.

"I had all of Velthomer," he said. "Castles and fields and country manors that were all mine. But seeing Deirdre felt like I'd never had any of it, not in my entire life. Seeing her felt like...coming home."

Julia lifted her head. Father was staring off over the garden. A line had appeared between his eyebrows, and she reached up with a finger to smooth it away. His gaze shifted to her then and he smiled as he reached for her in turn, sifting a hand through her hair.

"I've made the world safe for you," he said, "so that all your memories can be happy ones. You can think about that as you sleep—that and cake—and not even nightmares will touch you."

She nodded drowsily. Father wouldn't lie to her. His steps were slow and heavy as he carried her back to her room, and she sank deeper into each one, asleep again so quickly that in the morning she couldn't even remember him placing her back into bed and drawing the covers up to her chin.

* * *

Seliph's sitting with his back to her, a still-narrow silhouette against the evening sky, black on navy. Stars already splatter the new night, streaking and clustering the way bruises do. Though the air is cooling and she's sure the grass is chilly by now, Julia makes her way to him and sits.

She might have announced herself once. Excused herself, even. Now she is silent.

"The others asleep?" he asks.

"All but Lewyn," she answers.

"Sounds about right."

They fade back into silence. Seliph sits with his chin on his knees, blue eyes up and scanning the constellations like they have words for him to read. He's not the elegant nobleman they say his father was. He moves his lips when he reads reports; he can't quite do it silently. She hasn't seen a proper mirror in a long time, but she thinks they might have the same mouth. Something about his is familiar—the little smile he makes, the dimples at the corners.

"Julia," he says then, and she drops her eyes, though he hasn't lowered his. "What do you want to do, after all this?"

"After...it's over?" After we've won, she can't bring herself to say, like counting chickens will bring them bad luck.

"That's right. Will you stay with Lewyn, do you think?"

She's silent for so long that the crickets begin to peep, softly now. Most have already gone to sleep as autumn settles. Just like her past, her future is nothing. She tries to focus but it just makes her chest tighten. It's like punching through a sheet of parchment and meeting a stone tablet behind it, something much older, something that will last forever, and her bones ache for railing against it.

"I haven't thought that far ahead," she admits. "What will you do, my lord?"

"It's hard to say. Nobody has any idea how this will turn out or what'll be needed of us, after. But I guess...deep down...I do feel a call to Chalphy, even if I can't feel like it's really mine. I want to see my father's land; take care of it, if they'll have me."

"I'm sure they will."

"You can come too, if you want."

Her eyes flicker up. He's looking at her now, and for all the odd parallels of their lips, the glint in his eyes is the flame-center, the noon sun, Baldur himself and so foreign.

"I...I don't know," she finds herself protesting. "What about Lana?"

He looks a little startled, and the intensity fades as his warrior blood ebbs back. "Well, of course Lana will come with me, wherever I go. But why can't you, as well? If you want to, that is."

Her stomach twists and she picks at the grass between them. It's true that she'd go anywhere to be with him, to keep seeing his smile and sharp, unflinching looks.

"Sorry," he says then, a little quietly. "I guess I just...I'll always feel a bit responsible for you."

"Please...don't let me be more of a burden..."

"It's not that. I don't really know how to explain it." He starts to fidget with the grass, too. His hands are so different from hers, wide palms and long fingers, but his thumb has the same too-flexible bend that hers does. "I haven't known you very long, in the scheme of things, but being with you is...comfortable. It's like..."

"Like coming home."

She doesn't know where the words came from, only that she must have heard them once, long ago. Seliph smiles, eyes on the grass.

"Yes. That's exactly what it is."

Their conversation moves to other things: how things progress with Leif and Altena, how loudly Ares snores, how the wind snatched Arthur's clothes from the drying line yesterday. And after they've parted for the night and she lies in her bedroll, despite the war and bloodshed, despite the uncertainty and the blank stone time has walled around her, despite the monsters crawling the earth in human forms, Julia thinks of Chalphy and sleeps dreamlessly.


End file.
